


High

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: It was an innocent shopping trip, but it had consequences. My Bad Medical Knowledge is demonstrated within.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

The Tracy’s were an ordinary family, who did extraordinary things. And sometimes ordinary things. Like getting the groceries. John didn’t get a chance to shirk his share of this chore, but did combine it with his mandatory rest days and his mandatory gravity days for efficiency. It actually made a nice change to park up somewhere discreet, change into civvies and walk around like a normal person for change. A light breeze ruffled his hair, snippets of conversation drifted past as he and Virgil made their way through the lunch time rush.

John had been jostled out of the way several times already today when yet another person knocked into him, a person who quickly became lost amongst the bustle.

“Some people really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered to himself, quickening his step to catch back up with Virgil. That knock had been harder than the others and John rubbed his arm slightly. As nice as it was to be anonymous he was beginning to think the respectful space that naturally opened up around the International Rescue blues might have been appreciated. 

“You okay?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, just suddenly regretting volunteering to help you.”

“What, spending hours roaming round crowded shops looking for a very specific thing, otherwise we’re going to get an earful from Gordon isn’t your cup of tea? What could possibly not be fun about that?” As pilot of the ship with the largest cargo capacity it was always Virgil that went on supply runs, so he knew the routine and knew everyone else priorities. “Besides, you get to spend time with me.” He grinned.

“That is of course, the best bit.” John didn’t get to spend much one-on-one time with anyone and Virgil knew full well that any moaning about leaving his station or getting used to gravity just to buy groceries was mostly  feigned .

“We’ve got everything on the list so we can start to head back if you like.” Virgil said, after a moment studying it.

“Sure. As long as we can take the long way round. I’d like to see how construction on that new research facility just down the coast is doing.”

“Can you not find that out yourself?” They turned to wend their way back to Two’s hidden landing spot.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same as seeing it with my own eyes.” Like it wasn’t the same as seeing a brother over a hologram, or hearing their music on a recording. Virgil nodded in understanding and they got to work unloading their purchases and stowing them safely. 

John wiped sweat from his brow as he strapped the last box down – the day had become warmer than he thought. A wave of  dizzyness made him pause for a moment at the door the cockpit, but he shook it off and sat in the co-pilots seat while Virgil made short work of the last pre-flight checks.

“Thunderbird Two is ready for take off.” He said with a smile that John struggled to return, light headedness creeping up. Maybe he hadn’t had enough to drink today? It surely hadn’t been  _ that  _ warm out. 

Two rose gracefully above the tree line, Virgil making a smooth sweeping fly over of the city before setting course so they could get a good look at the regrowth on the city outskirts where they had put out a forest fire not two months ago.

“It’s looking pretty good, don’t you think? Don’t think they’re even going to need to reseed too much. John? Hey John?” Virgil had noticed John had screwed his eyes tight shut at their curving flight, the change in angle pushing his  dizzyness back to the forefront. He could run a mile after a 15G landing sequence, and flick from zero gravity to full and back again to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, an easy take off should not have his stomach twisting like his first time on a rollercoaster. 

“I’m not feeling so good.” He admitted, feeling flushed and warm and dizzy and uncomfortable.

Still with manual control of Two Virgil couldn’t do any more than shoot a worried look his way. Struggling against the impulse to rest his eyelids he saw Virgil do a double take. Whatever he looked  like, it couldn’t be good.

“I’m going to head straight for the island, you okay to sit up here with me for the flight? I’d rather have you where I can see you, but if you want to lay down ..... ”

“No. I’ll stay here.” John did  _ not  _ want to move. He forced his eyes open – it wasn’t helping with the  dizzyness and the patterns behind his eyes were forming and swirling in increasingly agitating ways, his imagination starting to see monsters where there were none.

Virgil ramped up the engines, the whole machine humming with a soothing vibration. 

“How long have you been feeling unwell?”

“Ten minutes. Maybe less.” It was getting difficult to focus. His heart was pounding like he’d run that mile. His vision was tunneling and Virgil sounded distant despite being a couple of feet away. He had lost all sense of time long before they arrived back on the island.


	2. Chapter 2

“What happened?” Scott asked, as he helped manhandle John from the chair onto a stretcher and out of the hangers, while Alan scampered past to complete post-flight checks.

“I don’t know. One minute he was fine, the next he was semi-conscious, grey, and had a pulse of one hundred and forty.”

“Shit.”

“Tell me about it.” It had been a few minutes before Virgil had  realised John had stopped responding. He had flipped Two onto autopilot to get a closer look. John wasn’t in uniform so there were none of the usual biometrics to hand, but gloveless fingers pushed against the neck just under the jaw line was enough to diagnose a racing pulse that had Virgil swearing under his breath.

“Allergic reaction? Did he eat anything?” 

John had been easy to persuade to have lunch out: near constant rehydrated pouches made him eager for a bit of variety  whenever he was  Earthside and off island.

“We stopped at that sandwich place he likes, and had  frogurt afterwards, but nothing new and we both had the same.”

They heaved him onto the  medbay bed, and started to attach the equipment that would give better data than hasty manual diagnosis. Gordon peaked his head round the door, concerned, but stayed back to give the elder two room to work.

The readings began to trickle in: blood pressure high, heart rate high, temperature high, all slowly climbing. John twitched on the bed but didn’t respond when Virgil  squeezed his hand or called his name. 

“What do we do? We can’t give him anything without knowing what’s wrong.” Scott said. 

That was true, they could do more harm than good if there was an adverse reaction. “We can start by cooling him down a bit. I’ll get the icepacks, you get a blood sample.”

This was not his area of expertise so Scott was happy to follow Virgil’s orders. He was perfectly capable of taking a blood sample though. 

“Help me get his shirt off.” Scott instructed Gordon, who was hovering. Giving him something to do was the best way to keep him out of trouble. Gordon held John’s shoulders while Scott stripped the shirt off John’s limp form.

“What’s this? Did he cut himself?” Gordon gently stroked where a red smear had already dried on John’s upper arm. Scott looked closer.

“Virgil? Know anything about this?”

Virgil continued breaking the endothermic packs but glanced over. “No, he didn’t say anything.”

Scott grabbed the cottons swabs that were part of the blood-drawing kit and cleaned up the area to see how badly John had been cut. It wasn’t a cut. A small round hole, with a circular area of inflammation graced John’s upper arm

“That looks like a puncture wound to me.” Gordon said.

“Insect?” Scott suggested.

Vigil looked at it closely for a moment, then shook his head grimly. “Too deep, too consistent. You need to get on with that blood draw. I don’t think he’s ill. I think he’s been injected with something. He’s been poisoned.”


	3. Chapter 3

Scott sat with John while they waited for the blood analysis – they didn’t have a full lab of course, but enough equipment to cover the basics. John’s temperature was no longer increasing but his heart rate was still well up: now resting at one hundred and seventy beats per minute. He was resting, but restless – twitching and squirming in his sleep. 

“You lot always cause me such trouble.” Scott told John. 

John had been  trouble all his life. He had this unending curiosity, a drive to learn that was exhausting to keep up with and that John used as an excuse to push limits. He’d wanted to know everything about everything back then, before he had confined himself to physics and programming and space. His behavior had been manageable when the worst John was doing was sneaking more books than allowed out of the library, but Scott should have managed it better, should have put a stop to it. Maybe if he had, John would listen to him when Scott told him to respect international data laws and governmental facilities. Maybe if Scott had listened more John would have been able to pass along more of that knowledge, and Scott would know what to do now.

Of all of them it was John they turned to for answers, and days he was otherwise occupied Scott felt the lack. Thankfully it was much more likely that John was absent because he was involved in co-writing a paper somewhere than because he was unconscious. One day John would have legacy away from International Rescue, one that was measured in knowledge and discovery. 

Wait, John  _ did _ have a legacy. 

“EOS?” he asked softly. “Can you hear me?” 

“I can hear you Scott Tracy.” EOS chimed from somewhere. Scott hadn’t been entirely sure that would work, didn’t know how far John had integrated it – her - into the island’s systems. Or that she’d integrated herself, whichever. Scott didn’t know how to feel about that yet.

“ So, you can see what’s going on with John? Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“I can access those systems, yes. John’s symptoms are consistent with fourteen thousand, six hundred and  thirty six possible causes. There is not enough information to recommend a safe and effective treatment.”

Somehow in the couple of weeks since her.... emergence.... onto Thunderbird Five she had learned to sound just like John – that tone of confidence without the least shred of  condescension . 

“If you do narrow it down, let us know.”

“Of course, Scott.”

Virgil walked back in the room as EOS signed off. “Just exploring all avenues.” Scott explained. 

“Hey, I’m not going to complain if she can help.”

Scott was about to say something about how rapidly life could change: how one moment an AI could be suffocating your brother while you were powerless to help, and the  next she was working to save his life, when said brother gave a gasp and jerked. His arms and legs spasmed, his eyes shot open.

Virgil was all over that at once, checking on the readouts which showed another jump in heart rate. Scott leapt to grab John’s shoulders to stop him spilling off the bed. He pushed lightly against John’s chest and with just a little resistance his head once more hit pillow. Scott raised the bed’s guard rails with a snap.

“He’s not awake.” Virgil said when pupil tracking tests were not responsive. “Not properly at least.”

“Looks like a bad dream.” Scott said, noting the numbers increasing across the board and how John was breathing heavily as if he were running a race. “How long until the testing’s finished?”

“At least another hour. I can keep him company if you want to stretch your legs.”

Scott shook his head in mute refusal. His place was here.


	4. Chapter 4

“The results are... confusing.” Virgil said to everyone, an hour and ten minutes later. “We’ve identified several different compounds that are similar to several completely different drugs.”

“What does that mean?” Gordon frowned. 

“It’s means we know there’s something in his bloodstream that shouldn’t be there, but we don’t have the equipment to go any further. We need to send this for outside testing.”

“Who are we going to send it to?” Alan asked.

“We’ll call Colonel Casey.” That was the easy decision, but the next one was harder. Thunderbird One was the fastest piece of tech they had, and Scott could pilot it the best, so it made sense for him to go and wait while the GDF completed the testing. Except he knew every minute waiting in some laboratory reception area was going to be pure torture. 

If Scott thought his dilemma had gone  unnoticed he was quickly dissuaded. “You should go Scott.” Gordon said, “You’re the quickest, but you don’t have to stay. Speak to Casey while Virgil is drawing more bloods and putting together a file, and take it wherever you’re told to. But come right back. I’ll call Penny and she will go wait at the lab in case anything needs bringing back.”

Scott smiled: Gordon’s solution simple, elegant, efficient. John would have loved it. 

“Ok, Gordon, Virgil, get to it. I’ll start pre-flight. Alan, stay with John. I don’t want him to be alone.”

* * *

Scott was pacing the length of the med-bay, throwing a fretful glance John’s way at each turn. Being in motion helped, sometimes he did as badly  sitting still as Gordon. Scott had pushed One past it’s optimum performance levels– he might even have broken a world record, if he cared to check - on the way to deliver the blood samples, and he’d turned on his heel the instant they were safely delivered. The focus he needed to fly safely left no room to dwell on what was happening on the island, and there was a sort of peace in that. Once back, chasing Alan out, Scott had no choice but to confront what was happening.

There had been no change in John’s condition in the hours he’d been absent, except that he looked to be deeply asleep again. Scott tried to look on the bright side and think that there had been no deterioration, but it was hard to be positive when John’s frantic heart beat echoed round the room, an  obscene accompaniment to his own footsteps.

“Scott. There has been an … event.” EOS broken his rhythm with her interruption, causing him to stumble and grab the countertop for support.

“What sort of event?” Not something that would need them to move out, that would be a ‘situation’. 

“I detected an  unauthorised attempt to access International Rescue systems. I have isolated and contained the code – it was quite sophisticated. For something so dumb.”

Scott ran a hand through his hair, holding on to the last thread of his patience in the face of yet another near disaster.

“It’s not the first time we’ve had to fend off a  cyber-attack . What was it meant to do?”

“Insert keylogging programmes into all terminals, freeze all systems except short range communication, and play a prerecorded message.”

That would have crippled them. Lives would have been lost in the event of an emergency, and if they hadn’t already delivered John’s samples ..... Scott was unable to suppress a shudder at the thought of them stuck and cut off on the island today.

“If you have access to the message, play it.”

EOS projected a  holo image and unsurprisingly it was the Hood – smarmy even at the smaller scale that was hovering in the centre of the room.

“International Rescue, I would hope you are having as pleasant week as I have been, but I know that’s not the case. By now you will have  realised that you are locked out of all but the most basic systems and the only one who has anywhere near the skills to stop me is.... indisposed. You are out of action until I say otherwise. I will sending further instructions once you have had time to digest this properly, but I trust you will be amenable. After all, there’s people out there in the world counting on you. And one a bit closer to home as well.”

The image flickered out, message finished.

“EOS are we secure?” Scott asked, lead in his stomach, suppressing the urge to order EOS to bring the image back only with the reminder that he couldn’t  _ actually  _ punch it.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.” She said, mildly offended. “John would have been able to firewall the  programme if he had seen it early enough, and broken through it if he had enough time: he is quite skilled. But it was  no challenge for me.”

“If you hadn’t been here we would be locked out right now, right?”

“Correct. International Rescue would not be able to launch. As it is, no systems are impaired.”

Scott slammed a cabinet door in anger, before he could restrain himself. He winced slightly at the noise, hoping it hadn’t disturbed his sleeping brother. 

Scott felt sick. The Hood had been lying in wait, watching, planning, learning. Thoughts of the Hood’s agents lurking at every call out and following every move flittered through his mind; even the possibility of someone in the GDF selling their intel. International Rescue very rarely made public statements about their capabilities, or even the number of craft they operated. The Hood had worked out who their coding expert was, waited for the rare occasion that he was earthbound, disabled him and then tried to disable all of them. No doubt The Hood would demand some or all of their technology, to use himself or sell for profit. Scott couldn’t honestly say what decision he would have made if the dastardly plan had been succesful: John’s life may be at risk, and who knows how many disasters they wouldn’t have been able to launch for? The Hood knew exactly how to put them in an impossible position.

“No, don’t!” John suddenly yelled, flailing as if fending off some sort of attack. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Scott captured John’s hands in his, trying to exude a calm that he certainly didn’t feel. John’s fight was short, settling swiftly back into silence. 

“Why does the Hood want to hurt John?” EOS asked.

Scott chose his words carefully. It had been less than a month since she  \-  _ almost _ _ killed two of his brothers _ – joined John on Five, and in that short time she had become surprisingly protective. Aggressively protective, in fact. 

“Because the Hood is greedy, selfish and cruel, and John was simply in the way.” Scott pushed back a lock of hair from where it was splayed sweatily across John's forehead. He was starting to look tired, even though he was asleep, dark circles sinking his eyes into their sockets. 

“What do we do about it?”

“Nothing, for now. I don’t care when that man thinks he knows, or what he plans to do.” Scott picked up his nervous, angry pacing again. “There’s only one person who needs our attention.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was Virgil’s turn to sit with John – the stark and sterile room empty with just the two of them in it, but more people here did no good for anyone. The last  twenty four hours had been tough on John: he’d alternated between wide-eyed, thrashing panic and scary stillness. At each transition his heart rate had jumped by five to ten beats per minute, never lowering, and was resting around the 210 mark. That was high. Very high. High enough for heart damage in the long term and a heart  attack in the short term.

Virgil had done his best – he’d tried a couple of different sedatives and a cardiac  stabiliser to no measurable effect. He’d set up an I.V. for a fluid and electrolyte solution to stave off dehydration. He’d tucked cooling packs under his arms when his temperature spiked. For  now there was nothing else to do for him and Virgil didn’t like that at all.

The two were close enough in age that he couldn’t really remember a time without him: first a happy, burbling blob, then a curious and uncontrollable toddler. John never lost that curiosity as he grew, though he gained some control as to where it was directed. Where Virgil was prone to flights of fancy involving music and paint and canvas, John’s imagination encompassed the entire universe. 

Virgil sometimes wished he could see as wide and as deep as John did – into the heart of stars and into the expanding edge of the infinite. As it was, Virgil was overwhelmed by the  colour and sounds of the world around him, but for John that wasn’t enough: always peering over the next horizon.

There was none of that now: John was pale and still for the moment, murmuring something  indecipherable . It was easier to watch him like this, than when he was shaking and yelling. Virgil could pretend that John was sleeping if he ignored the soaring temperature and frantic beeping of the heart monitor.

“You just hang on a bit longer John, we’re working on it.”

There was no sensible response, only muttering. Of course.

“I’m sorry that this happened while you were with me. I wish I’d noticed something was wrong sooner, maybe I could have....” Virgil drifted to a stop. Knowing there was probably nothing he could have done, didn’t, in fact, help. It never did. It felt different when it was family though. It shouldn’t. But it did.

The only thing that helped Virgil in restless waiting times was the peace found behind the easel or in front of the piano. He could detach his mind and let the sea of shape and pigment and tone and harmony wash away the worry and fear. It would be unhygienic to bring his sketchbook and charcoal into this sterile room, and the piano was out of the question. He had another option though.

When Virgil had left home for  college he hadn’t wanted to be without music completely so he’d bought himself a guitar from an antique shop.  It’s varnish had been worn, it had needed restringing, it was slightly battered. It was perfect: portable, compact and he’d been always meaning to learn, it gave him a  much needed respite from the calculations and drawings and structure that was engineering. 

He drew the guitar over his lap now, plucked the strings out of habit to check the tuning, before playing the first notes confidently. The Planets was not a piece composed to be played on an old guitar to an unconscious audience of one, but it was fitting none the less and Virgil tried his best: bringing the melody of Venus, The Bringer of Peace, to life in the small room. 

Virgil lost himself in the movement of fingers on strings just long enough to forget why he was doing it, but when he came out of his daze John’s heart rate had dropped to two hundred and six.


	6. Chapter 6

The demand came in from The Hood just as promised. Another pre-recorded message instead of a live broadcast for it to assumed that everything had gone according to his plan. What the bastard wanted was quite exhaustive: schematics for the Thunderbirds, developmental logs for a few key pieces of technology and the details of every International Rescue operative. That much data could have been used to cripple them, sabotage them or even  weaponised if in the wrong hands. They idly debated back and forth if The Hood meant to do one of those himself or sell it to the highest bidder.

EOS forwarded the message to the GDF with a little bit of information of her own since she had not been allowed outside the islands’ systems for a more thorough investigation: a few snippets of code she’d found that hinted at The Hood’s current location. Other than that, they ignored the man and continued their anxious wait.

* * *

“Penny’s on the way back, she’s got the treatment for him.” Virgil said, to the relief assembled family. 

“That’s great! Did the they work out exactly what is was?” Alan sat forward in his chair.

“Not exactly, but close enough to come up with something. But it comes with a complication.” Virgil frowned at his data pad. Nothing was ever simple for them.

“What sort of complication?” Scott asked, all business. 

“The last four days have put an immense strain on John’s heart.” Current heart rate was nearing two hundred and fifty beats per minute and Virgil didn’t go anywhere on the island without a live readout of his stats in case they spiked. Or crashed. “We can give him the antidote in one dose and that should return it to normal in as little as twenty minutes. Or we can give it to him more gradually and bring him out of it in about forty eight hours.”

"Why would we wait that long?” Scott asked, weighing up the choices.

“Because at the same time that his heart rate – and everything else – is returning to normal his body will start to break down the remains of the drug. He’s effectively coming down off a prolonged high. If he comes down fast the side effects will be brutal, I’m talking really bad.” Virgil was scrolling through a list of the possible side effects and to say they were numerous was an understatement. In theory John could suffer from every withdrawal symptom under the sun. “If he comes down slow they will be much less intense but.....“ Virgil trailed off. They all knew the possible consequences of his current situation.

“Do it quick.” Gordon said, not his usual smiling self. “The withdrawal is going to be a bitch -” his mouth twisted, he’d had a lot of experience being on and off various strong medications after his accident “-but it’s better than the alternative.”

A wave of nods washed around the room. They were used to dealing with helping each other through difficult situations, this would just be one more on the list. 

* * *

Scott was there when John woke up a few hours later, and didn’t bother to hide the relief when his little brother focused on him properly for the first time in far too long. His temperature had come down to normal and his heart rate was still a little elevated but at least it was no longer dangerous. They’d even packed away the defib.

“How long?” John asked, voice scratchy, trying to sit up but finding himself weak and shaky, hooked up to a multitude of machines, IV line flapping with his hand. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll dislodge the needle.” John’s arms were already covered in bruises from the multiple insertions. “You’ve been out nearly four days total.” Scott pushed him back down and John let him. “So don’t rush it.”

Scott filled him in on The Hood’s plan. How they had sent the digital paper trail to the GDF while ignoring it themselves completely. How John had effectively under the influence of a dozen narcotics at the same time. How they’d been monitoring him for a heart attack or a stroke. How he would soon go into  withdrawal . 

“That... that doesn’t sound good.” John muttered, craning to look at the nearest vitals monitor. Scott spun it around in exasperation: John didn’t need to see that right now. 

“No. The next few days are going to be rough for you John and we’re not quite sure in what way.”

John closed his eyes shut and Scott was alert in an instant.

“You in pain?”

“No, just tired. Feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.” John opened his eyes again, exhaustion warring with a stubbornness Scott couldn’t help but admire, as many headaches as it caused. John never stopped looking for a solution, no matter how many sleepless nights it cost. That determination had pulled them out of a sticky situation on more than one occasion but would do more harm than good now. 

“Then get some rest.” Scott tucked the blanket round John’s feet a little tighter and John settled into his pillow a little deeper: that’s how Scott knew it was bad.

“You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you.” It wasn’t a question from John, nestled in the bed and looking drained from their short conversation. John knew him better than that, but Scott didn’t want to go into that right now, didn’t want to  verbalise what he was prepared to do if the GDF came up empty.

“Don’t worry about that. Sleep if you can.”

John nodded and closed his eyes again.


	7. Chapter 7

John tried, he  swear he tried. He was trying his best to be the best patient he knew how, not even thinking of catching up on any work. He was tired enough to sleep for a week, bones and muscles aching, head pounding. But the Hood kept running through his mind. That foul sneer and those hard, unfeeling eyes had chased him through dreams that terrified him with their vagueness. He could cope with that specter during the day – was already thinking of ways to track and counter him – but didn’t know how to face the visions behind his closed eyes.

John didn’t think Scott would be comforted to know that he had patchy memories of the last few days and knew exactly the source of his nightmares from conversations half overheard in his feverish daze, so that was a snippet hew would keep to himself.

The nausea that at first was just distaste for someone so selfish became much more than that, his gut cramping every time he breathed out. He bit down against the urge to retch and swallowed hard -  _ the first rule of being an astronaut was don’t throw up in your helmet -  _ the effort making sweat pop out on his forehead. 

Nausea was manageable on its own but the headache that crept out from behind his eyes to wrap itself around his skull was making things complicated. The lights were up too high and it was too warm. He just had to grab the system control tablet sitting on a nearby bench to change that, as he didn’t trust himself enough to unclench his jaw to ask someone to do it through the comms. 

He laboriously turned himself over on to one side being careful not to pull too much on the various cabling and tubing. Now just to sit up. Easy. He could do that. He took a deep breath through his nose and shifted slightly to get a shaking arm underneath him. He only managed to move a couple of inches before the next wave hit, and this time he couldn’t stifle the groan that went with it.

“I can give you something for that.” Virgil said, appearing at his elbow with characteristic sneakiness. 

“How long.... have you been there?” John swallowed thickly around the words. 

“Long enough that you should have noticed.”

Virgil inserted a syringe full of something into John’s I.v. with the deftness of familiarity. John knew that the anti-emetic wouldn’t settle his stomach but would prevent the spewing at least. That would be nice not to have to worry about.

“I was distracted.” John said, easing himself back down. Even that small effort had cost him more than he liked to think: he’d thought he couldn’t get any  tireder . He was wrong.

“You should have said something. Don’t make me send Grandma in here.” Virgil said with a grin.

“You wouldn’t.” John moaned.

“I would and you know it.”

“Bastard.”

“Yep.” 

John allowed himself to close his eyes for a few minutes, comforted by the sounds of Virgil moving about the room, until the drugs took  effect . The tension leaked from his shoulders as the swirling mass in his stomach subsided slightly and he felt like he could talk again.

“You were playing earlier? The guitar?”

Virgil nodded, palming the lights down to something a bit easier on his straining eyes. "Thought it might help us both a bit. And I hadn’t played for you in a while.”

“It was good. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being the dipshit that managed to get stuck with something.”

“And I’m the dipshit that didn’t notice, so let’s call it quits.” Virgil pulled up the blanket, and placed a glass of water near the head of the bed.

“Sure.” John sighed, without the energy to argue. They’d find The Hood, and whoever he had paid to do the deed, and bring them all to justice. Just not today.


	8. Chapter 8

John was wrung out. The last thirty hours had been, not to put too fine a point on it, a waking hell.

Virgil had sorted the nausea, which was just as well as unrelenting thirst hit soon afterwards and it would have been torture to be unable to drink for fear of throwing it back up. Those few hours had almost earned him another bag of fluids anyway. Then came the muscle cramps, crunching through his arms, legs, hands and feet, leaving him writhing and trying not to scream.

He did scream at the hallucinations – The Hood lunged out at him from the shadows, sucking all the air from the room, leaving him clutching at his throat. An earthquake hit, the room collapsing around him, sea rushing in to drown them all in salty torrents. Half formed tentacley _things_ crept up from the floor and wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, holding him still for the needles to stab him, and the leering monstrous shapes to yell at and taunt him. 

When they faded his blood turned to ice, body temperature dropping no matter how many blankets were stacked around him  eventually shivering himself into an exhausted sleep.

Now he was awake, eating, drinking and with the energy to sit up Virgil said he was on the mend, but John felt more out of sorts than he ever had.

John’s life was all about control; procedures and protocol. He wasn’t an emotionless robot, as much as Gordon liked to joke about it, but there was a time and a place for them. John wrapped self-discipline around himself like a safety blanket because it  _ was  _ a safety blanket – he lived on a knife edge where an uncontrolled outburst could cause disaster and death.

Sitting in the  medbay – the rest of the family sleeping or eating, giving him some  much needed privacy – John wrestled with the flood of emotions that assailed him. He flickered between fear, anger, desperation, hate, apathy.

The moment he got a handle on one of them, something else rose up to engulf him, tossing him between tears and paranoia and shaking with rage within minutes. He was unused to such extremes of feeling, and unused to not being able to  reign them in when he needed to.

His mind felt fractured, his sense of self washed away and that oh so important self-control practically  non existent . H e couldn’t  _ dispatch  _ like this! They relied upon him to be calm when they called. He was no use to anyone if he couldn't  _ get a  _ _ grip,  _ and there wouldn’t be a place for him anymore if he wasn’t useful and he wouldn’t have a home and he’d lose everything and...

His thoughts were spiraling into  despair . He couldn’t take it  any more .

* * *

“Gordon Tracy, John may need assistance and you are closest. Please report the  medbay .” The ever-calm and even tones of EOS chimed in his ear.

“What’s the problem?” Gordon hurried his steps along the corridor, flooded with urgency.

“He appears to be in distress.”

“Medically?”

“His heart rate and blood pressure are raised but not dangerously so.”

Unsure of what he was walking into Gordon opened the door to the med room slowly, just in time to see something go slamming into wall  beside his head, shards tinkling to the ground.

“Heeey, what’s this.” He said, taking in the floor covered with the remains of several other glasses. 

John picked up another tumbler and it followed the last, splintering into crackling shards.

“I think we’re going to want those.” Was all he could think of to say, and not sure that John had noticed him come in, his eyes were so unfocused.

A third, and they were all gone. Except John’s rage wasn’t and with nothing else to throw balled up a fist to swing at the wall. Some of these walls were plasterboard, some were dry wall. Some were the solid rock that the hangers had been carved out of and would definitely break a hand. It was impossible to tell which that particular section of wall was, and it wasn’t worth taking any risks.

Gordon moved fast, stepping in front of John’s fist, pulling it down between them both. The momentum of it allowed him to twist John round and secure his hand behind his back, in a move perfected by hours of training with Kayo _. _

“No need for that. You don’t need a broken hand on top of everything else.”

“Let me go Gordon.” John twitched, grumbling low, but at least aware enough to know who was in the room with him.

“Not likely.”

“Gordon, please. I....”

“I am not letting you go until you calm down.” John wasn’t a weakling by any stretch of the imagination but this last week had really taken  it’s toll and Gordon had no problem holding on.

“ Gordon I need... I need....”

“What do you need?”

The strength seemed to leach out of John, and he sunk to the kneel on the floor. Gordon followed him down: ending up curled up over John’s back. He could feel John trembling, heart thundering. 

“Talk to me, please.” Gordon whispered. 

“There’s fire in my brain” John practically sobbed, and Gordon’s heart broke for him. “And ants crawling under my skin.”

“It’s going to be ok.”

“How do you know?”

A long time ago Gordon was in a bad place, hadn’t been feeling himself for a long time. He’d thought the whole world had changed and would never be the same. But it had only been temporary. He had healed and grown and those nightmares were in the distant past. John was going through something very different, but maybe Gordon could still help. 

“This is just another side effect. You’ve had all the physical ones and now you have this. It will pass.”

The remaining fight went out of John and Gordon released his wrist. With a little bit of shuffling Gordon got in front of him, and settled so that John’s head was resting over his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his big brother in a firm hug and felt John do the same, hands fisting into Gordon’s shirt.

“Did you know that a hug can actually lower your blood pressure? Scientifically proven, that.” Gordon said, squeezing tight.

“Hmmmm.” 

“You’ve been stuck in this room for far too long, you need a change of scenery.” Gordon said, thinking about the weeks he had spent looking at the same four walls and how it had bored him to tears, the  _ sameness  _ of it all. John lived in the ever-changing vastness of space, being confined to this room must be doing the same.

“I... I don’t know. I can’t think...”

“Then leave the thinking to me. I’m better at it anyway.”

John snorted.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s move.”

Gordon had to drag John up, but once there he could stand on his own. Sort of. Gordon needed to give him the occasional poke for balance, and pull for direction, but John did most of the work himself. Scott put down the book he was reading as they passed through the living room on the way outside, but didn’t say anything, just watched. Gordon loved it when Scott trusted him.

They made their way slowly down to the chairs by the pool, to the one that was right by the forest line and always in shade. Gordon pushed John down, and lifted his legs onto the lounger. John looked calm again, but a blank, empty, exhausted kind of calm. 

“Just lay back and concentrate on the wind on the trees. That also helps with high blood pressure.”

“It still hurts.” John  sighed with a slow blink.

“I know. I’m going to get you a drink of water.”

When Gordon got back with the water – and a blanket and a snack bar, just in case – John was fast asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, see you next time!


End file.
